


Ashes to Ashes

by evesharmony



Series: 5 Things That Never Happened [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-10
Updated: 2006-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:25:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evesharmony/pseuds/evesharmony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is nothing more than a vague shape above him, odd bright eyes and sharp teeth coalescing out of the darkness to whisper in his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes to Ashes

Sam is chasing Dean; or being chased, he’s not entirely sure anymore because the moon has clouded over and he can’t see and the tree branches are whipping against his face and fuck there’s a familiar hand clamping around his arm.

He loses his balance and gets tossed to the ground, his head missing the edge of a park bench by inches.

“Sammy! Nice of you to stop by.”

Dean is nothing more than a vague shape above him, odd bright eyes and sharp teeth coalescing out of the darkness to whisper in his face.

“I’d offer you a drink, but I’m in more of a taking mood tonight.”

“Dean—you don’t have to do this.”

“No, I don’t have to. But I really, really want to.”

And a hand that is far stronger than it should be tightens around his throat and lifts him almost completely off the ground. One last ditch effort before his windpipe is completely crushed.

“Dean, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me,” he chokes out.

The grip loosens minutely.

“You know what Sam? I think you’re right. I think there is a part of me that knows you better than anyone. That’s why this is going to be far more enjoyable than the stranger I ate earlier on tonight.”

The iron grip makes it pointless to struggle, but he does anyway because there’s nothing else to do. Hot tickle on his neck and then the back of his head is colliding with the ground—just missing the park bench *again*—and when he opens his eyes Dean is gone and there is someone else standing over him.

“Are you okay?”

He licks his lips and tastes something burnt and ashy and *wrong* and when his hand circles his throat the skin there is smooth and intact. The ashy-ness is on his throat too. It’s everywhere—in his eyes, his hair, his clothes.

“Where did he go? What happened?”

“He’s dead,” the stranger says. “He tried to kill you.”

“He—he’s my brother.”

“He wasn’t your brother anymore. He was something else.” The man holds out his hand and helps Sam to his feet. “My name’s Angel.”

“Uh, Sam,” he offers in a daze.

“Well Sam, let’s get you home.”


End file.
